


Spicy

by GrayRainbows



Category: General Hospital
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-15 20:35:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5799064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrayRainbows/pseuds/GrayRainbows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nov. 2013  - Luke and Tracy, the past, future and a reunion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spicy

**Author's Note:**

> Based on scenes from 11-4-2013, 11-18 and 11-19.

Spicy

November 4, 2013

 

"Look, I just laid all my cards on the table. I'm waiting for your answer. Please don't leave me hanging."

"You know my answer." Tracy said. "You've always known my answer."

"You're not gonna say the words out loud, are you? I like that about you."

"Just one more thing. That enchilada of which you speak... I like it spicy."

"I know you do."

The intimate timbre of Luke's voice invoked in her a tidal swell of pure heat. His tone insinuated that he knew all the secrets of her body, and savored that exclusive knowledge.

He broke the kiss, pausing to gauge her reaction.

"Stay with me tonight, Tracy. I know this place isn't the Q mansion-"

"Hmm," she regarded him, making him wait. "Well, the Metro Court does have certain amenities that I find I require." she answered in crisp, prim tones, then abruptly stood up and pulled away.

"Now wait...wait a minute," he said, reaching for her. "You're going to leave, after I poured out my poor Polonium-damaged heart?"

"I've had enough of wearing foreign grime. I'm just going to have a shower. Want to join me? No, you WILL join me. I don't want you running out, under the cover of the sound of the water."

He chuckled.

"Not a chance, Spanky. But let's save the shower for after. My strength ain't what it used to be."

"Are you telling me that the spice I crave is just going to be a dash? A pinch?"

"When have I ever short-changed you, darlin'?"

Their eyes locked, hers sparkled and challenged, memories of their shared history heightening anticipation.

"Luke, we're both suffering jet lag."

"I think you'll discover that my circadian rhythms are just fine. Now Come here and give your sweet old man what he's missed."

"Gladly."

Tracy acknowledged to herself that she yearned for this reunion, in part, to stave off the hopelessness that had risen in her as soon as they arrived in Port Charles, and Luke mentioned calling Anna Devane.

Insecurity on Tracy's part was unbecoming—Luke was absolutely right. His dalliance with Anna had ended a full year ago! Tracy's awareness of it and how she'd suffered over it, because she had still felt married to Luke, was a private wound she had tried to expunge from her mind and heart, and one she didn't care to explain to him. 

She'd fought against hearing it, but she didn't doubt the sincerity of Luke's declaration of love, and his intention to devote himself to her, but she was a realist, and knew the ingrained pattern that defined him wasn't likely to change. For a man so averse to obligation, Luke truly needed those ties of commitment, and needed, just as much, to pull against them.

Yet, last June, she'd been ready to take him back, even for a night--to hell with pride. It had been a long stretch of time without a man--this man, who was, after all, the only one she wanted. Although admitting that she missed Luke undermined her sense of her own independence, she had made plain to him that he was more important to her than ELQ, or anything else that she'd ever fought for and valued. She was well able to prioritize her own needs, and her days were not spent pining for Luke's intermittent companionship, and yet having him in her life in a significant way was a necessity, even if that permanence didn't take the shape of a traditional marriage.

His collapse had been a shock. It frightened her deeply, and that fear was greater than her pride and his. It served as a transformative reminder to them both that time wouldn't provide numerous chances to start afresh. Then, true to form, as soon as they began a cautious reconciliation, Luke left a note, and was once again compelled to leave the country, in July, giving no guarantee of his physical safety, of the safety of her own heart, and of course, no return date. 

And to add great insult to injury to interference, she'd had Laura on her doorstep, barging her way in, demanding information on Luke's whereabouts--as if the woman still had a right, and that her worry could excuse such rudeness! Then Olivia Falconeri claimed to have had a preposterous but disturbing psychic vision about Luke's impending demise, and Tracy had to take some kind of action.

Such unlikely, strange circumstances had led Tracy to risk her life to rescue Luke from Cassadine Island, and surely, she could now allow herself this moment to celebrate surviving the madness of yet another of Helena's murder attempts.

"I missed you."

"I missed you too."

"I hope so."

Her fingers combed through strands of his hair, and toyed with his earring. She cupped his jaw in her hand and deepened the kiss, open and deep and hot and full of promise. Her tongue touched his and a thrill swept through him. Knowing what would affect him, she trailed kisses to his ear, sucking on the lobe and grazing it with her teeth. Darting her tongue into the hollow of his ear, Tracy breathed his name and pulled him hard against her body. Soft sounds of pleasure, low in her throat, was the preamble that excited Luke. She went still, waiting for him to take the lead.

"God, I don't know whether to ravish or adore."

"Adore later. I've waited a long time, Luke." She dropped her voice to its husky register. "I've been needing this since... since our last time."

"I know, baby. I know. We're both long overdue." he murmured, as his arms enfolded her and she melted into him. His hands inched beneath her blazer, tugging the thinner fabric of her top away from her skin. Her contented purr became a moan of impatience as his hands moved slowly over her back, and to the swell of her hips.

"I want to give you all of me," he whispered again. Her eyes went hazy with acute need. "Tell me you want it. Say it, Tracy." he urged. 

"I want it, so much." she confessed, her voice intense and barely audible. "I want you to love me. Now, Luke."

He undressed her, removing the classy jewelry and clothes that were so singularly Tracy's style. A subtle, clean scent of vanilla rose from her skin, traces of the almond milk soap she favored. The familiar sight of the curves and angles of her body beneath the loose-fitting garments stirred his senses, as did her fair skin against the darker fabric of his own clothes. 

His hands gravitated to her breasts, a banquet offered to a starving man. His lips tugged, creating an overwhelming sensory asault. He swirled his tongue around each pique, massaging the underside with his thumb, in time, until she began to press her hips against him. 

"God, Luke. It won't take much."

"Then I'll just have to make it last."

She grabbed a handful of the purple shirt, enjoying the roughened texture of it against her bare skin, still trying to work at undoing his buttons. His expression was dazed, and she could feel how aroused he was through the barrier of his jeans as she reached to stroke him through the fabric. She unfastened his jeans and he lifted himself to allow her to pull them away.

"Get on with it, Spencer." she rasped. "Don't make me beg for it."

"Tracy, I live to hear you beg. It is one of life's sweetest pleasures." he said, leaning on his elbow to gaze at her, the blue of his eyes charged with desire.

Luke took his time, in absolute command, intent on drawing out the sweetest of torments, he kissed her shoulder and down Tracy's rib cage. Turning her to Caress the butter-soft backs of her knees, his large warm hands splayed across her hips. Nipping at the skin of her inner thighs, playing feathery touch of lips and tongue just off center of where she needed to be touched, teasing, building her need with the practiced skill of years. She squirmed, restlessly urging him on.

"Good?" he asked.

"I swear to God, if you don't... hurry... Luke, please-"

"My Popsicle, sweet as ever, and just as impatient."

"Ha! About half as impatient as you are."

"Damned right."

Her breath was labored, and he stopped her words with the force with which he abruptly moved his body up to press her down on the bed, parting her thighs with his knee, anchoring her with his weight.

"Luke-"

She entwined her limbs with his, bringing him as close as possible.

"This is mine, isn't it?" he demanded, pressing his fingers inside her.

"Oh-" she gasped. "Yours...yours, Daddy."

In a rush, he came into her fully, and she cried out, his searing urgency overwhelming and glorious relief, and her body soon accommodated him, matching his pace, each of them mutually greedy for sensation. She smoothed her hands over the straining muscles in his shoulders and down his back.

"Magic words." she said, laughing, triumphant.

"You know all my secrets."

"Mmm."

"Wake the neighbors for me, baby."

"Oh shut up." She chortled, but let her eyes drift closed, concentrating. There was nothing in the world now but Luke's touch, the steady strength of slow, perfectly calibrated movement, and the harsh sound of his breath. She opened her eyes and watched him fighting to delay the crest of his own desire.

She felt herself on the verge, her senses reeling, and just then a group of people passed in the hallway, raucous mirthful voices a maddening intrusion.

"Shh-shh. Stay with me. It's just us." Luke encouraged, his lips close to her ear. "I know what you need. Trace. Give me a little more. That's it. A little more."

She drew him deeper into her core, bracing her hands on his hips and choked out his name. He continued on, and when she cried out for him a second time, he came hard inside her, groaning with the raw need of his own exquisite delayed release.

"Admit it. Wasn't that better than taking things slow, going on months of prim little dates, until we both lose the will to live?"

She considered.

"I'm in favor of having my cake, every last crumb of it, yes."

"Glad to hear it."

Tracy dozed, her fingers laced lightly about Luke's wrist. She finally slept, turning to fit her back to his chest. Luke's arm draped around her waist, his chin at rest on her shoulder. In the middle of the night, in the soft moonlight, she half surfaced from sleep, disoriented.

"Okay, Spanky?" Luke asked in an indistinct mumble, knowing even in half sleep, where he was.

"I wish I could keep this moment, forever." she confessed.

"Mmm. The feeling is mutual, Wife." he pressed her close to his side. In the dark, defenses laid aside, he spoke the simple truth that they both felt, no matter their legal status.

"Say it again." she whispered, imploring.

"Wife." he whispered back, his lips against her skin.

She had meant to keep the banter light, but she choked up and turned her head away.

"Hey, what's this?"

"I hate to get emotional."

"Ah, the proud Quartermaine legacy." Luke noted, sardonically. 

Tracy acknowledged this with something akin to a laugh, the sound familiar and endearing, a single note low in her throat that bespoke wry amusement at her own expense.

"You don't need to be guarded, with me. In spite of what your family has always put you through, you're the best person I know, and the strongest. No one sees how much heart you have, and how easily you can be hurt. I want to protect you because," he leaned closer to look into the shadowed pool of her eyes. "because I need to keep you, always. And for Ned and Dillon... and Lulu. Hell, even for Edward. I've let you down--too often--and he'd have my head, if he were here. No matter what he said to you, your father loved you." 

"He said so, at the end."

"I'm so glad, Tracy. And about damned time."

"He's gone, and I think it's just started to hit me that he's not coming back. They're all... all gone. And you so very nearly were, too."

"Tracy, I'm here." he murmured, and gathered her to his chest, hoping to make her feel safe. "I'm not going anywhere."

"For the moment."

"I've always sought a challenge, you know that, it's oxygen to me--or WAS." he amended. "But I don't find meaning in disaster--in almost forfeiting my life, anymore." He sighed.

"Oh really? Since when?"

"I realized I don't want to risk losing you, or risk losing my life, and... and leaving you alone."

"Luke," she began, the catch in her voice a sign of how touched she was by his admission. "It wasn't your fault, this time." Tracy conceded. "Helena poisoned you. If she hadn't, well, I like to think you may not have skipped town... the country... this year."

"I wouldn't have. I'm finished with all of that. Believe me, I am not running a bluff. I meant what I said."

She could not hear it enough, and he intended to keep saying it until she was convinced. There would be no flippant jokes now about Tracy being his Bonnie Parker, only the honesty of his heart and what it desired.

Luke had a surprising capacity for heartfelt speeches and for revealing his emotions, but words were not binding, no matter the veracity with which they were spoken. Although he was absolutely sincere in this moment, when the wind changed, Luke would go with it; he would follow his strongest impulse.

In the course of their eight years together, she had done all she knew of to make life unpredictable enough to avert his habitual spring restlessness. The struggle hadn't prevented heartache, or succeeded in keeping him by her side on a regular basis. She dreaded the coming days, knowing he would read an article in the paper or hear something that would make him twitchy, pique his interest, and waken his wander lust. He would be tempted off to chase God knew what unnecessary trouble.

For months, since last May, ever since her dressing down of him, Luke had lived with her words, the barrier she'd put between them, with the truth she'd given him. They had filtered through his consciousness, leading him to a resolution he had sidestepped for far too long, but knew was as right as that true north he sought. She was his family, she was the sun in his universe. Her intelligence, companionship, her lovemaking, her humor, and the challenge she posed were all necessities to his well-being. 

Long ago, after Alan's death, Tracy had advised Luke to "wake up and smell the burning bridge." She warned her husband that she was not long-suffering. He had, and she was; in spite of her tough words. She was a good woman, his woman--notwithstanding their temporary diversions with others--and he resolved to be better. She deserved better than him, but it was his sorry carcass Tracy wanted.

For Tracy, he knew, it was easy to want love, but not so easy to ask for it. She hadn't yet spoken of the future, theirs or his, or asked what he planned to do for work, where he would live, who he would see. All she asked was that he stay close. That, he would endeavor to do, always. 

"Morning, Spankellah."

"You're still here." she said, in mock surprise.

"I brought you a cappuccino."

"Ooh, top notch service. I think I'll keep you."

"I'll order breakfast, too, unless you want to go out for it."

"Yes, on our way to the hospital."

He sipped some of the foam off her coffee, before handing it over.

"Stop that! Get your own."

He grinned.

"If you don't like it, go marry someone else."

"I wish I could."

"Go on. Your next husband will do something worse."

"The grass is never really greener, elsewhere."

"Cynic. God, I've missed this." he said, stretching.

"What? The hot coffee, hot breakfast?"

"And a comfortable bed."

"Oh, I ache all over, Luke. It isn't a comfortable bed."

"It is, if you're in it."

"Charmer." Tracy rolled her eyes. "But a luxury mattress wasn't all you lacked, as Jerry Jacks's hostage."

She began to badger him again about seeing a doctor.

"You have a heart condition, Luke. We have to be sure you're all right."

"You are relentless, woman."

"You love it. It's one of my best qualities." she smirked. "Do this, for me. I'll relentlessly make it up to you in some very creative way, when we come back here, later."

"What say we get started on that making up, first?"

"No. Get dressed." she directed.

"But there's something I still need." he said, eyeing her with an exaggerated, comical leer.

"I know. You want me to give you a credit card, and clearance to buy yourself a new wardrobe." she quipped.

"Shopping beats a visit to the hospital, you have to admit."

"Mmm. Stop stalling. Get your coat."

"Don't you have to meet with the family trust officer about some investments, or have business to wrap up, before pizza day?"

"Nice try, but it won't work, Luke."

"Isn't ELQ falling to pieces, without you?"

"ELQ weathered the pointless and utter chaos of Michael Corinthos at the helm, not to mention the missteps and scandals wrought by my dimwit nephew! AJ is positive proof that humanity is devolving. So it will survive one more day, I'm sure. Not much happens, this close to Thanksgiving. I'll make some phone calls while you're with the doctor."

She picked up his leather jacket and held it out to him.

"Sure I can't tempt you?"

"You can always tempt me." she smiled. "But at the moment, I feel every one of my years."

"We have the same number of 'em, and I think we're doing good, for kids our age."

"We are." she agreed.

They planned to spend the first few days home together, cherishing their good fortune. Fate and Jerry Jacks had other plans.

Lulu arrived, shortly thereafter, infant and paraphernalia in tow, hoping Tracy and Luke could watch Connie, for the afternoon. It was to be the first of several tense days in court, for the Falconeris, and Lulu would soon need their support.

"Lulu looks happy." Tracy said, later that evening.

"So did you. You enjoyed looking after that baby, today."

"Someone had to." she rejoined, shrugging off the sentiment. "I thought we both turned in an adequate performance as grandparents."

"You're a natural." Luke observed.

"They're few and far between, but I have my moments."

"You don't fool me, Tracy Quartermaine."

"Well, I always wanted a little girl." she said. It was not a new revelation. "Sometimes I imagine her."

"We could have had a grandchild in common, you know." he said quietly, touching her cheek.

"You remember."

"I remember how good you were, to Lulu."

"I'm-" she cleared her throat. "I'm glad it's worked out for her."

"You know, if we'd gotten together when we should have, years ago, Tracy, I could have... given you your daughter."

"Oh, Luke-" 

"Then I'd have two of you, to give me grief."

"No doubt."

"We could try." His voice had taken on the playful, sultry tone that melted her resistance, if she let it. "What do you say, Mama? Let me. Let me try."

She chuckled.

"Don't you think we're a bit past that?"

"No. No I don't. It's never too late for a good fantasy."

"Well, you certainly know how to dream them up."

"I know how to make it happen, too." he whispered, rolling on top of her, kissing her with intent. "Take a chance."

Luke and Tracy did not sense an ominous presence that had tainted the peace of the mornings, nor did they notice a shadowy figure that lurked in the corridor, watching each of their departures from the MetroCourt.

"It's show time, boss." he murmured into a cell phone. "A dress rehearsal, you might say. They've just left. Yes, she spent the night, which means your job has just become more complicated. We should have put this plan into action months ago."

Seizing the opportunity to gain closer access, another man approached one of the busy maids, and asked entry into the room, claiming loss of his key card.

"Not long now, old friend." hissed the sinister voice of the predator, once he was alone. He moved stealthily into and about Luke Spencer's room, swiftly and expertly observing its contents. The possessions of the pair who had just vacated the space would provide him with valuable clues, and he lingered, taking in every tiny detail that would add to his crucial store of knowledge about their personal habits.

He cast a look of extreme annoyance at the signs that the woman had been here: a jacket hanging in the closet, a silky cerulean-blue scarf tossed on a table, a hint of sophisticated perfume lingering in the closed space. It meant that his future tasks would now not be as straight-forward. He cursed, but continued his survey, touching nothing, leaving no prints.

"Savor freedom, while you can. Your days are numbered, Lucas Lorenzo Spencer."


End file.
